Everyone has a scarring family story. Mine involves my grandfather and his boat.
Everyone has a scarring family story. Mine involves my grandfather and his boat.
At ’90s night, we dance, we sing, we puke. We search for our former selves.
There’s a reason why 30somethings don’t leave the house. In public, we’re awkward.
This year, a bar opened in my home town for the first time in its three-century history. This might not sound like a big deal, but when your town’s most exciting social venue is a tie between an antique shop and the Wawa parking lot, a new bar is like what Studio 54 must have …
I’ve never been much of a Halloween guy. It’s probably because the street I grew up on wasn’t very conducive to trick or treating. There aren’t sidewalks, and the houses are pretty far apart, so it would’ve taken four hours to get down the street on my little legs. So each year, my mom would …
There’s this game I play with my students on the first day of school, where I ask them near the end of the class to write down something they think they know about me. It’s a task I assign for several purposes, most of which are self-serving. I want to take my students’ temperature, see …
Author’s note: This is Part II of a three-part series. For an optimal reader experience, read Part I first. I’m a little fuzzy on what JWO stood for. I’m pretty sure it stood for “Junior Wrestling Organization,” but it’s totally possible it stood for “Juggalo World Order,” which is what just came up when I …
One of the self-deprecating jokes I make when I introduce myself to someone for the first time is that I peaked in high school. I say it not because I think it’s true, but that it demonstrates I have a sense of irony and perspective on the world not found in all humans. In my …
Each year, I wrap up the school year and head into summer. But summer break for me doesn’t mean days lounging by the community pool or exotic vacations to beachside towns; it means work. Work on the house, work entertaining the kids, work at the brewery. How I long for those lazy days of unstructured …
My sophomore year of college, I was a mess. I spent close to zero time doing the things I was supposed to be doing (attending class; making meaningful connections with new peers and mentors; drinking my face off) and more time doing sad, weird shit (reading books in bed all day; talking to my old …
I Don't Belong Here. 